


Chasing the Report

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [36]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “Is there something else you’d like me to add in?” I was so confused – everyone had said to stay professional. But here he was, saying something else.“We can start with the fact that I’m single.”





	1. Chasing the Report

**Author's Note:**

> This was written 08/02/2017 and has been edited only slightly since

The wizarding world was curious about Cormac McLaggen, the star-studded keeper who had emerged from the shadows of the bench at the start of the year and had taken the world by storm. And the Daily Prophet was going to give them the exclusive they were looking for. 

To the general population, he was more than a pretty face. The sole heir to the McLaggen family fortune, and an unbeatable keeper he garnered interest from both quidditch and non-quidditch fans alike. But to those that had gone to Hogwarts with him, he was something else. He had, at one point, been so arrogant that an encounter with him left an unpleasant taste in your mouth but, apparently, he had changed following the Battle of Hogwarts. He was a good quidditch player, a good friend and a good son.

But to me, he was someone else. He probably had no recollection of the little fourth year that he had approached after the battle. 

_Hogsmeade was plunged into chaos as the underage students waited around for some news about what was happening. We knew that Harry had won, that we had won but that was it. No one had mentioned the list of casualties, the list of those that we had lost and I couldn’t shake the ill feeling in my stomach. Dennis had run off somewhere in search of his friends as they tried to get some news from the castle to try and find out where our older brother was. Colin had stayed behind to fight and even my desperate pleading hadn’t been enough to change his mind._

_“Miss Creevey,” a tap on my shoulder followed the words. _

_Turning around to face the person that was demanding my attention, I stared up into the face of a man. Cormac McLaggen – he was one of the few to come down to Hogsmeade to relay the news to us. We were forbidden from going up to the castle yet._

_“Yes?” I asked, wringing my hands together nervously._

_McLaggen’s face was contrite as he searched for the words to say. But even before he had said a word, I knew. “I’m sorry-”_

_“Please don’t say it,” I cut him off, a hand outstretched pleadingly towards him. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”_

_He swallowed thickly but continued. At that moment, I hated him for it, but a few months later I would thank him for being brave enough to give me the first piece of closure I needed. “I’m sorry but your brother, Colin, he was one of the casualties of the war.”_

_I dropped to my knees, wailing and crying in the middle of the Hogshead. If only he had listened to me. If he hadn’t been so pig-headed then he would still be – he would have been_

_An arm wrapped around my shoulder, momentarily stopping my crying. Knowing that it was probably Dennis, I turned my face into his chest and cried my heart out as my brother patted my back. I have no idea how long I stayed like that until I heard Dennis call my name. But his voice was too quiet to have come from the man holding me._

_I pulled away, looking up into McLaggen’s face. Embarrassed beyond belief, I rose to my feet and faced Dennis who was standing, stunned at the scene he had found me in. Catching sight of the trail of tears running down my face and my bloodshot eyes, he instantly held his arms out. _

_“What’s the matter?”_

_I went into his arms gratefully, burrowing myself against his shoulder. “Colin.”_

_The name was enough. He tightened his arms around me and let me cry. Peeking my head up from his shoulder, I sniffled and rubbed my tears away in time to see McLaggen walk out of the room._

“Miss Creevey!” a voice called out, catching my attention as I sat in the stands. The voice pulled my attention away from the keeper that I had been focusing all of my attention on. 

Looking at the person who had called my name, I rose to greet the team’s coach, tucking my notepad and pen into my pocket. Making my way down the stands, I came to a stop beside the coach and shook his hand.

“I take it that you’re here to start your research on our star keeper?” he asked, looking at the man who had held my attention only moments ago. 

“That’s right,” I said with a smile. “But I was actually hoping to talk to you and the team captain today? So as to get an idea of how other people see him.”

“Of course, we can arrange for that,” he agreed, blowing his whistle to halt the practice. 

I watched as one of the chasers threw the quaffle just as the whistle was blown. McLaggen caught it easily, cradling the quaffle in one hand and steadying himself on the broom with the other. All eyes flew to the coach and I shifted uncomfortably, noticing the number of curious eyes on me. I met a pair of eyes as they hovered by the goal post and looked away as the coach called for the captain. 

“Pucey!”

The captain, Adrian Pucey – one of the youngest captains in a century, flew over towards the stands and dismounted to stand beside his coach. Nodding his head in greeting towards me, he looked back to his coach. 

“Adrian, you had an article featuring you written last year for the Daily Prophet. So you know how these things work,” the older started, clapping Pucey on the back. “She wants to talk to you about Cormac and find out what you think about him.”

“As the team captain or as a friend?” Pucey asked, turning his eyes onto me. 

“As both preferably,” I answered as the coach left the pair of us alone to resume the practice. 

Sitting down on one of the benches, I brought out my pen and notepad, ready to start questioning him. Ignoring the odd look Pucey gave the muggle artefacts, I was thrown off when he started to speak first.

“I haven’t seen you since you left Hogwarts.” He tapped his fingers on the bench beneath him.

“You saw me in Hogwarts?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You were always trailing after your eldest brother, trying to talk him out of some hair-brained scheme.” Seeing the turn in my facial expression, he wisely changed the topic. “So, when are you going to start interviewing the main man himself?”

“We’ve been owling back and forth.” I tucked some hair behind my ear, throwing another look at the keeper in question. “He suggested conducting the interview somewhere in Hogsmeade – he said something about it being more comfortable for him and for the team.”

“And where did you suggest?”

“The Three Broomsticks?” Looking up into Pucey’s eyes, I bit down on my bottom lip cautiously. “That is alright, isn’t it?”

Pucey grinned cheekily, throwing me off guard. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that.”

* * *

I hadn’t been working for the Daily Prophet for long. In fact, I had only worked my way up to being a ‘real’ reporter at the start of the year and this piece on McLaggen was to be the fourth piece I’d written that was guaranteed to be published. And because I was such a newbie, I took every piece of advice I was given to heart. For example, always turn up early to a scheduled interview as you didn’t want the subject of your interview to have to wait for you and become annoyed.

That was why I turned up 10 minutes early to the Three Broomsticks. But the moment I stepped through the door, I knew something was wrong. It was extremely crowded, more crowded than it normally was. The group of people seemed to be milling around the corner booth that I had unofficially reserved for the interview. Pushing my way through the crowd, I managed to force my way to the booth and saw the reason why it was so busy. 

Cormac McLaggen was sat in the booth, 10 minutes early.

At the sight of me, he straightened up and waved me over. Approaching the booth, I slid in beside him and made sure to keep a professional distance between us. Just to make sure, I placed my bag between us and started to rifle through it. 

“Before we start, why don’t we order some drinks?” he asked making me flush with embarrassment.

“Right, sorry,” I apologised, tucking some hair that had managed to fall from my ponytail, behind my ear. “I hadn’t expected you to be here early so I’m a bit frazzled.”

When I looked up at him, I was greeted with a charming smile. “You’re not supposed to keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“Right,” I muttered, looking down into my bag again. Maybe casting an undetectable extension charm on it had been a bad idea? Eventually, I found my pen and notepad and placed them victoriously on the table.

“So?” McLaggen prompted, making me look up at him in confusion. “The drinks?”

“Oh, right.” I rose to my feet, intending to go to the bar and order.

“Where are you going?” he called out before I could take a step away from him.

“To order the drinks?” I trailed off cautiously, sitting back down when he motioned for me to do so.

“That’s not what I meant.” He chuckled under his breath. “I mean, what do you want to drink?”

“Ah, Pumpkin juice, please.” Picking up my notepad, I flicked through it to find the page where I’d written down everything Pucey and the coach had told me during their brief interviews.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”

I looked up momentarily, “I don’t drink alcohol when I’m working.”

“Not one to mix business and pleasure together, are you?” he remarked as he left the booth and headed towards the bar. He didn’t struggle to make his way through the crowd as I had. Instead, the crowd parted easily for him. 

I didn’t contemplate his words as I pulled out a list of questions that I had already pre-prepared prior to this meeting. He returned minutes later, sliding into the booth and setting the glass of chilled pumpkin juice in front of me. When he sat down, taking a swig of his knotgrass mead as he did so, I noticed that he sat closer than he had done before – regardless of the bag between us. 

I cleared my throat, “I hope that you’ve kept the receipt so we can reimburse you.”

He let out a breath of disbelief, making my eyebrows pull up slightly. “It’s on me, love.”

“If you’re sure.” I reverted into business mode, picking up my pen and twiddling it between my fingers. “Before we begin, is there anything you’d like to ask me about this interview or the final report?”

“There is one thing I’m curious about.” He reached an arm behind him to ruffle his hair. “What is that?”

He was pointing at the pen in my hand. 

“This?” I looked down at the pen and then back at him. He nodded – I’d forgotten that he was a pureblood. “It’s a pen – muggles use it to write and it’s much more practical than using a quill and ink.”

“But where does the ink come from?”

“The ink’s inside of the pen.” I drew a line at the corner of my page to prove my point. “Is that all you want to know?”

He nodded again, “And is this all you want to ask me?”

I hadn’t realised that he had taken the piece of paper with my questions on it. He looked over them, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Is there a problem? I can change them or take something out if you’re not comfortable-”

“It’s not that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “They’re just all very … professional.”

“That was the point.” I chewed on the end of my pen nervously, at this rate I’d never make any progress on the report.

“And there isn’t anything else you want to know?” he pressed. “The report will be boring otherwise.”

“Is there something else you’d like me to add in?” I was so confused – everyone had said to stay professional. But here he was, saying something else.

“We can start with the fact that I’m single.”

He wouldn’t move on until I had written that done in the notepad. Only then did we continue with the interview. I made a conscious effort to try and get through it as quickly as I could because I didn’t want to keep him from anything important. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr McLaggen,” I said, shutting my notebook and officially bringing the interview to a close.

“Cormac,” he insisted.

“Thank you – Cormac – one of the photographers will pop around to a practice to get some pictures of you and the team so we won’t need to meet again,” I assured as I started to pack away. “You won’t need to make any more time for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

I looked up at him curiously, “If there’s anything else you’d like for me to add or remove, feel free to pop into my office so we can discuss anything.”

“And what about outside office hours?”

“Outside office hours?” I repeated uncertainly. “In that case, you can always owl me, I suppose.”

“Merlin’s beard, are you really so senseless or are you playing dumb on purpose to spare my feelings?” The question was quiet, making me still partway through picking up my bag. What was he talking about?

“Cormac?”

“I’ve waited until the end of the interview to ask you something so that we could meet for a reason apart from this report.” He reached out to tuck some hair behind my ear, the action making me flinch slightly in shock. “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Oh.” I looked away from him. “I’ve said before that I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

Sliding out of the booth, I heard him protest, “But I thought we’d finished everything.”

“Thank you for all of your time, Mr McLaggen.”

I made my way through the now less crowded room and into the street before apparating away. 

* * *

I should have known that simply leaving him alone in the Three Broomsticks wouldn’t end the matter. Clocking into work the next morning, I walked through the floor and headed to my office, shutting the door behind me. My steps slowed as I approached my desk, spotting a vase full of flowers on the desk. I didn’t put them there.

Walking into the office beside mine, I poked my head through the door, “You didn’t happen to see someone drop flowers off in my office, did you?”

My colleague looked up briefly, “The beautiful bouquet of magnolias? Apparently, they were delivered to the receptionist’s desk this morning and he put them in your office.”

“Right, of course.”

I left the office to head back into mine when they called out behind me, “Check to see if they left a card.”

Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that? Shutting the door to my office again, I placed my bag on the table and looked at the vase of flowers. Sure enough, resting against the bottom of the glass vase was a white envelope with my name written on it. Sitting down at my desk, I reached out to take the small envelope and opened it.

_Thanks for taking time outside of your schedule to interview me. Maybe next time we could leave out the work stuff?_

_Cormac _

Shaking my head slightly, I put the small note back into the envelope before shoving the entire thing into an empty drawer in my desk. Shutting the drawer quietly, I traced my thumb against one of the white petals. Magnolias had always been my favourite. Looking away from the flowers I took my notepad out from my bag and started my first draft of the feature. I was so absorbed in my writing that thoughts of Cormac didn’t enter my mind even once.

Now if only that had been true. 

I had assumed that the flowers were a onetime thing. But I had been wrong. Every day of the week I had come into the office to find a fresh vase of flowers in my office and because a spell had been cast on them, the flowers wouldn’t wilt for a long time. It was too much of a shame to throw the flowers away that I resorted to decorating my office with the vases of different flowers. Six vases for six days. 

Not that I would ever admit it if I was asked, but at some point, I had started to look forward to the flowers. It wasn’t because of the flowers themselves but because of the handwritten note that came along with them. 

Yesterday’s note was still on my desk

_It’s supposed to rain today – not that it’ll affect you in your nice and cosy office. But I’ll be playing in the rain today. Wish me luck? If you want us to win you have to think of me at least ten times throughout the day. If you don’t then I’ll know ~_

_Have a good day thinking about me!_

_Cormac _

Putting the note back into the envelope, I placed it with the rest of the notes in my drawer and looked around my office for today’s flowers. There weren’t any new ones. Pushing the oddly disappointed feeling away, I rose to my feet and straightened out my clothes before leaving the office. I had given my editor the final draft of the feature and was supposed to receive his feedback today. 

My meeting with the editor ended fairly quickly and I made a note of the few criticisms he gave. Not that I let it show, but I was pleased that the faults he’d pointed out had been to do with the layout of the pictures and the text, rather than the writing itself. Leaving his office, I headed towards my own and slowed down slightly when I saw someone standing outside of my office. As I got closer to the person, I recognised them. There was already a small crowd forming. 

“Cormac?” I said once I’d come to a stop in front of him. Unlocking the door, I gestured for him to enter the room before me. “What are you doing here?”

He waved a hand that I had only noticed was holding a bouquet of flowers. “Didn’t you wonder where today's flowers were?”

“How was the game?” I asked instead of answering his question as I took the flowers – orchids – from him. “Did you win?”

Returning to my desk, I summoned a vase to put the flowers in as he asked, “Did you think about me yesterday?”

I did, but he had no reason to know that. 

“I don’t see how that will affect anything,” I insisted, opening today’s note and reading it with a smile on my face. It soon joined the rest in my drawer and I looked back to Cormac, halting when I found him watching me. I cleared my throat. “So, did you win?”

“We did.” He sat down on one of the chairs on the other side of my desk. “You kept all of the flowers.”

“Of course I did.” Picking up the vase, I placed it on the window sill, beside the vase from the third day. The flowers – carnations – showed no sign of wilting. “Why would I throw them away?”

He shrugged, “If you weren’t interested, I guess.”

“How does the way I feel about you influence what I did to the flowers?” Turning to face him, I raised an eyebrow and leaned against the window sill. 

“If you didn’t like me then you’d have thrown them away,” he said as if it was really that simple. Rising to his feet, he approached my desk and ran his forefinger across one of the magnolia petals. “I had no idea what your favourite flower was so I decided to send you a different one every day until I figured it out.”

“Then you should have stopped on the first day.” I gestured to the flowers in front of him. “White magnolias are my favourite.” 

“Then, I guess, I’ll have to send you them every day now.” 

“Please don’t.” I interrupted his plans. “You sending flowers to my office every day and now, actually appearing here, is interfering too much with my work. Every two minutes someone walks in to try and find out what our relationship is and that’s so bloody annoying because we _have _no relationship – I’m only writing a feature about you. After it’s published, you’ll return to your life and I’ll return to mine.”

“Who says?” he raised an eyebrow, coming around the desk to approach me.

“What?”

“Who says we’ll go our separate ways once the article is printed?” Crowding me against the window, he gripped the window sill on either side of my body. I expected him to press in closer to me but he didn’t. He kept his distance – as much distance as the position allowed, at least – and stared down at me. “Because if that’s what’s going to happen then I refuse to allow it to be published.”

“You can’t do that,” I protested weakly.

“Can’t I?” He cocked his head to the side, lips tugging up into a lopsided smirk. 

“What’s it going to take for you to stop this madness?” I asked gathering myself. 

“Ideally you’d admit your very obvious feelings for me –”

“Someone’s very self-assured -”

“But I’ll settle for something else.”

“And that something else is?” I almost regretted asking him. The moment the words had left my lips, he pressed in closer towards me, making me back up against the window. 

“A date.”

“A date?” I repeated, wondering if I’d heard him properly. “Just one date – that’s all?”

“Well, unless you want to go on more than one?” He chuckled at my facial expression before pulling away from me completely. I straightened my posture, watching him tuck his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. He rocked back on his heels slightly, watching me with evident amusement. “Just let me take you out on a date and if you actually enjoy yourself then we’ll keep doing it. But if you don’t then you won’t have to keep indulging me.”

“You promise?”

“I swear on the lives of our unborn children.”

I rolled my eyes; what was I going to do with him?

* * *

The day of our date arrived and with it, it brought an irritatingly handsome quidditch player. I had barely finished getting ready when there was a knock on my door. Walking barefoot through my apartment and to the front door, I opened it to find him holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Really, at this rate, it would become strange for me to see him _without _any flowers. 

“I didn’t expect you to get here so early,” I admitted, stepping aside to let him in and taking the flowers from him when he held them out for me. 

Heading into the kitchen, I transfigured a cup into a vase and filled it with some water before putting the flowers in it. Cormac had followed me into the kitchen and I turned back to face him. He was looking around the room with fascination as if he’d never seen a kitchen before. 

“You could have just told me where to meet you,” I pointed out when he finally looked at me. 

“But that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” He pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you think we have the type of relationship where it’s alright for you to surprise me?”

“So, we’re in a relationship then? Here I was thinking that we weren’t – after all, you say so yourself in your office.” He shook his head slowly. “Merlin’s beard, make up your mind, woman.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as he straightened up and approached me. Having learnt my lesson from the fiasco in my office, I walked around the room and away from him. I was determined to keep my distance from him – he wasn’t going to crowd me into anything today. He said nothing about my obvious avoidance and instead followed me. 

“You’re impossible,” I threw over my shoulder as I walked out of the kitchen. “Should we get going then?”

“Eager, aren’t you?” 

“The quicker we leave; the sooner I can come home.”

“Not if I’m charming enough for you to not want to return home until tomorrow,” he remarked, speeding up to cut in front of me on my way to the front door. 

Shooting him a look, I grabbed my coat and slipped my feet into my shoes. “I’m not that sort of girl, Mr McLaggen.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” He chuckled at my facial expression. “You’re not that sort of girl at all and that’s why I like you.”

“I’m not even going to ask you what you mean by that,” I muttered, straightening out my clothes and raising an eyebrow. “So, are we going or not?”

He held out an arm for me to take, “Well come on then. We’re apparating.”

“You did pass the test, didn’t you?” I asked doubtfully but took his arm anyway. 

As soon as I had taken his arm, he pulled me into his chest and wrapped it around my waist. “Hold on tight.”

Before I could say another word, he had apparated us out of my apartment and we found ourselves, moments later, standing in an alleyway between two buildings. Tucking his wand into his pocket, Cormac removed the arm from around my waist and instead took my hand instead. He led me by the hand, out of the alleyway and I took a look around us. 

My mouth parted in shock slightly, “Are we in muggle London?”

“We are,” he confirmed but said nothing more as he led me through the busy streets, moving through the crowd of people.

“But why?” I asked looking up at the man who was staring straight ahead as he navigated us. 

“Well you’re muggle-born, aren’t you?” He looked down at me briefly, “I thought you’d like it if we spent some time in the muggle world. And not to sound big-headed or arrogant, but I’m quite famous in the wizarding world – you saw the scene in the Three Broomsticks – a crowd tends to form and I don’t want that. I want to be able to get to know you properly and enjoy our first date together.”

“That’s sweet and all, but do you even know your way around muggle London?”

He rolled his eyes for me to see as we came to a stop in front of a coffee shop. Holding the door open for me to enter before him, he spoke, “You underestimate me, Creevey. Where do you think quidditch players go on dates? It’s one of the reasons that the paparazzi get so annoyed – the quidditch players that genuinely want to spend time with someone and avoid the paparazzi, head into the muggle world.”

“Really?”

Escorting me to a table, he narrowed his eyes playfully. “You might be a sincere journalist but don’t go and tell that piece of information to any of your paparazzi friends.”

“I won’t,” I promised, shrugging out of my coat and laying it across the back of my chair. 

“Good, keep the secret to yourself.” He opened up a menu and I found myself doing the same. “Now what can I get you?”

After placing our order, Cormac returned to the table where I was waiting. He took one look at my facial expression before sighing. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back in his chair.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t say anything,” I protested.

“I’ve seen you enough times to realise that you have a facial expression that you pull when you want to say or ask something,” he explained, “So ask away.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, “I don’t know-”

He rolled his eyes. “Hurry up.”

“Why do you like me?” Seeing the incredulous look he was giving me, I hurried to explain, “I just don’t understand it – before the whole feature writing thing popped up, the last time we’d seen each other was at Hogwarts. I had been 15, crying my eyes out and you were probably uncomfortable as you comforted me. I just don’t understand.”

“That wasn’t the last time,” he admitted.

“I’m pretty sure it was –”

“Just because you think I didn’t see you, doesn’t’ mean that I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Your brother’s a big fan of the team, right? So much so that he used to drag you along to games with me at the start of the year until you became busier with work. I’d just become the main keeper and from my goal post, I had a vantage of the VIP area. That’s when I saw you.”

“And what?” I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “That, was it?”

“No, I was curious about you.” He paused as our drinks were brought out to our table. Waiting until the waitress had left, he started to speak again, “I hadn’t seen you since the Battle of Hogwarts and to be honest, that day I’d wanted to stay and make sure that you were alright but Dennis was there so I left him to it. It started off as curiosity until it wasn’t.”

“I still don’t understand,” I murmured, raising my mug to my lips.

He chuckled slightly, “I didn’t think you would. But it’s alright, we’ve got a long time for me to explain it to you.”


	2. Epilogue: 4 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Babe?” 
> 
> Even though I couldn’t see the person that was talking, I already knew who it was. His voice reverberated through the almost empty hallway and I groaned, burying my face into my hands. What did he think he was doing? Sure, most of the other journalists had already gone home but I wasn’t the only person left in the building. He was set on embarrassing me. 

_4 YEARS LATER_

“Babe?” 

Even though I couldn’t see the person that was talking, I already knew who it was. His voice reverberated through the almost empty hallway and I groaned, burying my face into my hands. What did he think he was doing? Sure, most of the other journalists had already gone home but I wasn’t the only person left in the building. He was set on embarrassing me. 

Looking back at the half-written report on my table, I sighed and started to pack up. He wasn’t going to let me hang around the office until I’d finished writing it. Well, he would – but he would annoy me whilst he sat in one of the chairs. Quidditch season had officially ended and the players had been given some time off before the training season commenced again, leaving my boyfriend with some free time. But, I wasn’t a famous athlete and I didn’t get time off as he did. 

Moments later, Cormac popped his head around the door and grinned when he saw that I was already packing up. Inviting himself into the room, he shut the door behind him.

“I thought you were meeting up with the teammates today?” I asked, looking briefly up at him as I reorganised my desk. “You told me last week, didn’t you? You said something about it being a _guy’s_ night where you’d go out and get completely smashed and end up sending me a drunk message via your Patronus. In the end, I’d have to come and pick you up and you’d spend the night on my sofa?”

“How did you get that from me calling it a guy’s night?” He tilted his head curiously to the side.

I rolled my eyes, looking up to give him an unimpressed look. “Because that’s how the last four of your guy’s nights have ended. You’ve just been too drunk to remember it. Merlin, if you’re a lightweight then don’t drink so much.”

“I’m not a lightweight.” His wounded pride made him puff his chest out slightly. “We have Irish blokes on the team and we drink to keep up with them. You know what us guys are like.”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered. If I wasn’t so stressed about the report then I would have teased him for using a stereotype to hide the fact that he couldn’t hold his liquor. Instead, I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way around the desk, to where he was standing. “So why was guy’s night cancelled then?”

“In solidarity for our captain,” he said solemnly.

“What’s wrong with Adrian?” I asked, forgetting about my report as concern coloured my features.

“He’s going to become a father.”

My mouth parted slightly and before I knew it, I’d reached out to slap his arm. “Why say something that’s good in that sort of tone!” I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, “I had no idea that Adrian was dating.”

“He’s kept a lid on it for a while.”

“How long is a while exactly?”

“About 2 years.” At my raised eyebrows, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t look like that – who was the one that made me hide our relationship for _almost _2 years?”

“That’s a different matter.” I shook my hand dismissively “So how’s he taking it then?”

“As well as anyone can take it given the circumstances.”

“The circumstances?”

“He hasn’t told his family that he’s dating,” Cormac explained, throwing an arm around my shoulder and tugging me into his side.

“And what’s the big deal?” I asked as we walked out of my office.

Stopping in the hall, I made sure to lock my office before turning back to find him looking around the corridor cautiously. Merlin, that look meant that he was going to tell me some gossip.

“The big deal is that his girlfriend is muggle.”

“So?” Furrowing my eyebrows in confusion, I went back to his side. Together we walked out of the building and towards one of the designated apparition spots. Since the revelation of our relationship, the paparazzi had quickly gotten bored of following us – we were too boring of a couple with no drama that had no drama that would make us front-page news. “His parents aren’t blood purists, right?”

“Adrian isn’t,” he avoided my question. “But the thing is that his girlfriend doesn’t know about magic.”

“Good Godric,” I muttered, shaking my head. Only Adrian Pucey would get himself into this ridiculous situation. “And he’s stressing about how to tell her isn’t he?”

He nodded slowly as we reached one of the apparition spots. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

I scoffed, looking up at him. “You, Cormac McLaggen, are a big old gossip.”

Elbowing him in the side, I apparated into my apartment alone. He followed moments later, just like I knew he would. 

“You’re talking as if the teammates don’t gossip about us,” he protested.

His words made me freeze as I sat down on the sofa. Looking back at him from over my shoulder I raised an eyebrow. Swearing under his breath, he tried to backtrack on what he had just said.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, “I think I heard you wrong. What did you just say?”

“We all do it,” he explained futilely. “It’s just one of those things that the team does – we talk about girlfriends, boyfriends, people we’re attracted to and other things, of course.”

I crossed my arms, “And what exactly has the team been gossiping about us? Or rather what have you _told _them about us.”

He smiled sheepishly but even still, the corner of his lips curved as if to form his all too familiar smirk. That smile alone was enough. 

I let out a deep breath, trying to control myself. “Cormac, am I going to be able to make eye contact with the members of the team again?”

He tilted his head slightly, not making eye contact. “Well –”

“Am I going to _want _to make eye contact with any of them?”

He cleared his throat. “That depends.”

“On what, exactly?”

“Do you remember our third date?” he asked the question offhandedly but I tensed.

“You didn’t –”

I reached to grab a cushion. Seeing the movement, Cormac backed away from me and raised his hands before him in surrender, “Babe.”

“I’m going to kill you.” 

With that, I threw the cushion at him. But of course, he was a keeper, and he caught it with both hands. He had the nerve to smirk at me before realising that smirking was probably the worst thing he could have done – had this been a normal situation. If this was a normal situation I would have chased him around the apartment by now, but it wasn’t normal.

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. Merlin, this was so embarrassing. I felt the sofa dip as Cormac sat down beside me, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down my back.

“It’s really not that bad,” he tried to convince me. “We know stuff about _everyone’s _girlfriend, boyfriend, wife or husband. It’s part of the team stuff.”

“And no one before me has known about your little sharing of secrets?” I looked up from my hands to see him shake his head. “Just you wait until I tell them – who do you people think you are?”

Now he looked scared. 


End file.
